


You're Captain Tonight

by s2039 (ka_tsu_ra)



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Author loves to chat in the Comments, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Dry Orgasm, Established Relationship, Forced Orgasm, Gift Fic, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Power Dynamics, Younger Top, comments give me life, give me compliments bitte schnell, painting the garage, probably the horniest thing i've written, seeing dead kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ka_tsu_ra/pseuds/s2039
Summary: Harlock has invited Yama to play a game with him. Yama's not entirely on board. Initially.





	You're Captain Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [labicheramure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/labicheramure/gifts).



> There isn't enough explicit Harlock BL in English. Overall, there is not enough uke Harlock fanfic. I have done my small part to address both things. Merry Dicksmas.

Yama had no idea what he was doing. A feat, really, considering he hadn't even done anything yet.

He worked gloved hands at his sides as he proceeded down the corridor, sweat collecting in the sliver of air between his skin and the material. That wasn't entirely true. He'd agreed to a few things, and he'd made a few requests of his own. Even if had he made them under what might be called duress.

Baffled, inflamed duress.

Baffled, because it was a request he'd never make himself.

Inflamed, because he wanted it the instant he heard it. So badly that a wash of shame struck him a moment after, as his mouth was voicing his body's enthusiasm. He wanted it so badly that the shame couldn't silence the requests he made.

“ _Get dressed before I show up, and don't take anything off.”_

His mouth had turned slack and unresponsive the longer he tried to talk. He didn't know enough about the attendant... procedures, to make many detailed requests.

Harlock told him to ask Miime if he had any questions, but that would have meant, well, asking Miime about it.

So he found himself standing outside the door to Harlock's quarters, sweaty, clueless, and half hard just from thinking his anxious thoughts.

He wasn't supposed to knock.

Everyone else was – or ought to be – asleep or otherwise occupied. It would be fine.

Yama turned the handle slowly anyway, pushed the door in just as delicately.

The cool lights that lined the corridor gave way to planetshine off a passing moon and the shivering halos of candles. The warmer, simpler light played off the shades of red and green and dark wood that filled the captain's personal cabin. Overall, the impression was always a fuller and more organic atmosphere than could be found in the common quarters.

Harlock was waiting at his desk, which he'd cleared with the exception of a wine bottle and two glasses, one of which he'd filled for himself. He lifted the rim to his lips and watched Yama over it, the flame glint caught in his eye stirring Yama's confined cock. Yama swallowed and shut the door behind him.

He was rigid, hands at his sides like a cadet waiting out an inspection, with his cock obscenely pressing the front seam of his pants.

Which, coincidentally, was an experience he'd lived in the literal sense in several nightmares.

“Come,” Harlock said after a beat. His voice carried no command, only invitation warmed up with lust.

While Yama walked over, Harlock poured him a glass of wine he hoped would take the tension out of his limbs. He didn't sit to drink it, but he leaned with one hand on the desk and observed Harlock.

He was just as Yama had requested, dressed for commanding on the bridge from his cloak to his heavy boots. This was a comfort.

“Listen,” Yama said, focusing his uncovered eye on the sheen of Harlock's wet lips. “I can't promise I won't disappoint you. I've never-” He swallowed more wine. He'd blame the words on that. “I haven't done anything like this before, so try and be patient with me.”

Harlock smiled. His smiles were broader and more frequent now, but they still drew Yama right in. “We can start slowly and go from there,” he said. He drained his glass and set it aside, slipped his gloves off. “If it's all right with you, either of us can say 'fire' at any time and we'll stop. No hard feelings.”

“Sure.” Yama emptied his glass, poured another, and put it away in one big swallow. His shoulders prickled, and he must have shuddered because Harlock's smile returned. Then, Yama came suddenly around the corner of the desk to get close to him and Harlock's eye widened. Teeth and tongue showed through his parted lips, but he didn't make a sound.

Not until Yama touched him. A sigh passed over his vocal cords when Yama slipped his gloved hands under the shroud of his hair, caressing his cheeks and the back of his neck. Cupping his jaw. Appreciating him.

Harlock's face was warm even through the gloves. Yama loved him so damned much. He couldn't start this act without the light, worshipful touches more familiar to him. He forced himself forward and out of that moment, sliding his hands down to unclasp the cloak around Harlock's shoulders. This wasn't entirely about him. It was an exchange.

Yama pushed the cloak off Harlock's shoulders and let it bunch behind his neck as his head craned back to expose his throat.

Like he was offering himself. Yama shucked his gloves off and let them fall to the floor. He touched hot fingers to Harlock's exposed neck, stroking and delighting privately in the quiver of skin under his touch. He worked quickly to disengage the supportive armor Harlock wore under his cloak. He'd done it enough times. Even outside the context of sex, Harlock came to him first when he was wounded and needed the armor off. So new to reliving the human indignity of incapacitating pain, he trusted his frailty to Yama above the ship's doctor. He'd been indestructible for the old man's whole life, after all.

And that made Yama bold. As the armor frame gasped loose and fell into his hands to be set aside, something in Yama started to uncoil and work through his stiff arms, easing his posture.

Harlock trusted him.

“I'm the only one who gets to do this,” Yama said, mostly to himself as if marveling at the notion. He worked the zipper over Harlock's throat and slid it down, watching Harlock's expression. His captain looked utterly rapt, his halved gaze fixed on Yama and his parted lips uplifted in a gentle smile.

The responsive material hugging Harlock's chest and shoulders contracted briefly before it relaxed so that Yama could push it down on his arms and expose his chest.

'Only I get to do this,' Yama reminded himself. He wrapped the notion, the responsibility, the privilege, around himself.

“Get up here,” he said. He patted the desk's surface, and the percussive sound surprised him.

Harlock complied, pushing his chair back to get clearance between himself and Yama and practically flowed up and onto the desk. He left his shirt in the chair. Even without the dark matter permeating his body, he would sometimes move in preternaturally graceful and grand ways.

And only Yama, the crewman most acquainted with his humanity, got to undress him. Only Yama, Arcadia's second captain, got to tell him what to do.

Only Yama got to – and, it had been implied in allusions to Miime's familiarity with what Harlock had asked of him, had the anatomy necessary to – hold him down and fuck him until he was screaming.

It wasn't anything he'd ever ask to do. It wasn't even something he'd thought about.

Knowing Harlock wanted it, though, and having this choice view of him half dressed and fully hard for him in anticipation of the ritual, made it irresistible to at least try.

Harlock leaned forward and down – just a little, so he could look into Yama's eye through the lash screen over his own – and hummed invitingly. Yama seized the familiar invitation and kissed him, leaned hard into Harlock's solid, scarred body. Harlock sighed through his nose and let his weight fall back on his hands, receptive and supportive in a way that made Yama feel like he was pouring himself into him. The passivity was new. Usually, Harlock would grip and press into him, match his hunger. Now, he seemed content to let Yama devour him.

Yama came to the offered feast hesitantly, playing with Harlock's lips between his teeth and testing how fast he'd jerk away. Plunging his tongue in deep and tasting his mouth until he was breathless and Harlock had to chase him for more. Harlock showed no such hesitation, which was fitting. Yama left his mouth, tracking kisses down to the crook between his neck and shoulder. He sucked and tongued there until the skin under his lips was warm and red and tender, then he bit down. Harlock gasped and arched into him, the confined swelling of his cock pushing into Yama's thigh as he started to slip off the desk.

The first time Yama did that, it had been on accident. He got carried away, and Harlock cried out. Yama had pulled away, startled and ashamed, only for Harlock to pull him back in and moan when he stroked his tongue and lips over the sore spot he'd created.

Harlock loved it when Yama burned hot with him. He called it refreshing.

Yama raked his nails lightly on Harlock's chest and stomach as he trailed a blind hand down to unfasten the belt around Harlock's stirring hips. He let a moment pass, until Harlock made a small sound in his throat and his own prick started to throb in earnest again, before he let himself into Harlock's pants and coaxed his erection out into the air. The ragged breaths overhead came quicker and Harlock's shoulders stiffened. His whole body was taut with restraint imposed only by himself.

“No underwear?” Yama asked. He didn't bother to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Harlock sighed and his cock tried to twitch in Yama's grip. “I'm only dressed for play's sake,” he said. He chanced raising a hand to let his fingers play through Yama's hair. “I'm sure you don't blame me for wanting to streamline things a little.”

“No, I don't,” Yama said. He swiped his thumb over the tip of Harlock's cock – it was really easy with how wet it already was – and watched the captain take his lower lip between his teeth. Yama didn't like to think of himself as a controlling person, but making Harlock react was very fun. “Just don't get so impatient you come before I'm in you.”

“I can hold out a good, long time,” Harlock said. He slipped his hand down to the collar of Yama's collar and pulled at it.

Yama pulled his hand away and pushed back on Harlock's shoulders so he'd fall back on the desk. “Don't tempt me to take that as a challenge.” He said it through a smile, half joking. Or telling himself it was only a joke.

“Feel free.” Harlock let his head fall back over the desk's edge. Candle and planet light played over his marked body, catching sharply on the trails of fluids. His nipples were hard and Yama wanted very badly to suck and bite them until Harlock whined. He wanted, in that moment, to do more than one encounter on one night would allow.

To 'feel free' to consume and overwhelm him was too rich an offer. Yama's head swam.

“Get up and suck me first,” Yama forced himself to say. He groaned when he crouched to split the zippers going up the backs of Harlock's boots so he could get those off. He needed something to do that would take his reddened face well out of Harlock's line of sight.

“Of course.” Harlock raised his hips to help Yama draw his pants down to his knees and pull them off with his boots. “You don't want to play a little more first, though?” He was sitting up now, leering at Yama.

Yama rocked his shoulders back in a display of false confidence. “What did you have in mind?” He immediately regretted not holding tight to his 'in charge' role.

Harlock's lips twitched into a smile Yama was afraid would break into laughter. “You didn't talk to Miime.”

“No.” Yama ducked his warm face to his chest.

“Here,” Harlock said, reaching over with a confidence that didn't fit his state of undress at all to pull open one of the shallow drawers just under the desk's surface. “You're making the decisions tonight, so you should know your options.” Yama made a face and Harlock choked on a laugh before he added, “I put these things here tonight for the game's sake. Normally, it holds other instruments.”

Yama leaned over the drawer and swallowed, recognition dawning on him immediately. He was less experienced, not sheltered, and the identity and purpose of most of the small collection was obvious. The lights winked sharply off sleek metal and glass forms and dully off strands of broken in leather. There were bottles, too. The 'instruments' designed for striking didn't appeal to him. Just the thought of raising a hand to hurt someone he loved made his stomach curdle in anticipatory shame, whether they enjoyed it or not. Biting was one thing, but using what felt like a weapon was beyond him.

“You... do this with Miime, then?” Yama asked, to distract himself with jealousy as he picked over the drawer's offerings. One of the devices had wiring, which was entirely too much for his rattled brain to deal with at the moment.

“I did,” Harlock said, emphasizing the past tense. “Bodies can get just as lonely as hearts do, and we enjoy a particular understanding of one another.”

Yama thumped one of the slender bottles onto the desk and kept his gaze on the devices at his disposal. He wasn't even thinking about how sweaty and hard he was anymore. “Would you keep doing it with her if I didn't want to do it?”

It was hard not to sound wounded.

“No,” Harlock said, without a second's consideration. “And with forty others aboard, Miime doesn't hurt for new playmates.”

“Good.” Yama blew out a breath to try and drain the heat out of his face and neck. He didn't like to think of himself as a jealous person, either. He pinched the ring on the end of one of the shorter, simpler devices and pushed Harlock's knees apart with his free hand. Harlock put up no resistance and made ample room for him to step in and stand over him. “It's juvenile, but I like to think you're all mine.”

Harlock had no response, wise or wry, to give him. His attention was focused on the crooked finger of graduating glass bulbs Yama had held out in the light to give a good view of his work as he poured the bottle's slippery contents onto it.

Meanwhile, Yama divided his attention between his work and the body spread out for him. He let the hand holding the bottle drift and scatter a broken stream of crystal clear fluid over Harlock's cock and thighs. The sharp hiss between his teeth when his hi[s jerked didn't escape Yama's notice.

Yama set the bottle down so he could take Harlock's cock in hand and grip it tight. The lubricant let it slide up far and fast, so that his grasping fingers rolled one after the other in rapid succession across the ridge of the head and wrung a gasp out of Harlock. Yama repeated the motion in reverse, slower, looser, and used the distraction to start positioning the toy he'd chosen to play with.

It was a weird little thing, not even as long as his hand was wide and curved in such a way that he had to take a moment to determine whether he was using it upside down. The fattest, tapered bulb should probably face forward. Like he'd do with his hand. Probably.

A little push was all it needed to slip in to the wide ring on the base. Harlock's knees knocked into Yama's hips and he sighed. The smooth muscles of his abdomen fluttered, the ring visible between his legs nodded in an obvious betrayal of hidden movement inside, and Harlock's head rolled.

Yes, he'd made a very good choice.

He smoothed a slick hand over Harlock's stomach and watched it happen again. A hot rush spilled over his skin and pooled between his legs. Yama didn't like to think of himself as a controlling person, but being _handed_ control was very nice.

“If I just hold you like this,” Yama said, slipping his hands under Harlock's knees and spreading his legs so wide one knee threatened to knock a glass over the desk's edge. Harlock breathed out sharply, and his cock twitched. “Do you think you can come like that?”

“It takes a while,” Harlock said, his voice even between his breaths. That unbroken composure was... not frustrating, but challenging.

“Maybe that sounds fun to me.”

Harlock raised a brow. “Are you feeling so patient?”

The challenge called Yama back into awareness of his own body. He'd been rocking his pent up cock against the back of Harlock's thigh for some time. His body wasn't even thinking about his pants. He let Harlock's legs drop some and stepped back with a dismayed groan.

“Get up.” Yama pushed the chair back and abandoned his belt on the floor, fumbled with gloved hands to get his zipper down and his cock out. He wound up biting his lip while he pushed his pants down a bit to let it stand free. The languid fall back into Harlock's seat was very welcome.

Harlock came over on his hands and knees, and Yama's head swam. He gripped the arms of the chair and let Harlock be helpful, let him pull off his boots and his pants so he could vent some of the heat trapped against his skin.

It didn't feel right that he was the one out of breath. He reached down to touch Harlock's jawline in silent request, and Harlock obliged by taking his cock in hand to guide the red head into his mouth.

“Good,” Yama gritted out, sliding his hand around Harlock's left ear. He didn't ever touch the right side of Harlock's face without invitation. At ease in their game, Harlock nodded his head far down the length of Yama's cock and swallowed around it. His tongue rolled around the head on the trip back up and pushed like a firm finger against the taut underside going back down.

Harlock gave good head, or at least what counted as good in Yama's limited experience. Deep, and slow, and quiet, like he was trying to coax Yama's cum down his throat. Yama's joints loosened up and he slouched in the chair, sighing.

It was always good, but this was better on account of the view if nothing else. Harlock's scarred back and ass made for good viewing under the dreamy light, and the way his voice and breath hitched when his inner muscles moved the toy made his throat and tongue buzz sweetly around Yama's cock.

Did he ever get on his knees and serve Miime like this?

Yama tightened his hand in Harlock's hair and drew his arm forward until he felt Harlock's huffing breath disturbing the hair over his engulfed cock. Harlock moaned, shuddered, and rocked his hips forward. Then, he drew back and Yama hurt from the effort it took to keep from fucking back into his throat. It made the small of his back hurt.

“Does that thing in you feel good?” Yama uncurled the hand in Harlock's hair and stroked, half praising and half apologetic.

Something glinted behind the curtain of hair that had fallen over Harlock's face: One eye, wide and glazed. Harlock moaned and the vibration traveled out of his chest, through the walls of his swallowing throat, into Yama's cock. He sucked in a breath through his nose and pulled back so far that he could lavish attention on the manageable mouthful of Yama's cock head.

Yama winced through the electric pleasure. He returned his stroking hand to the arm of the chair, not trusting himself. He'd been ready to burst since he opened the door, and the animal draw of yanking Harlock forward and emptying himself down his throat was too powerful.

“Enough,” Yama hissed.

That was all it took for Harlock to detach from him and look up, expectant, lips full and wet like he'd been thoroughly kissed. He eased back to sit up straighter, one foot planted in preparation for the order to rise. The shift in position gave Yama a full view of his cock and the thin, clear strand of fluid clinging to the tip.

Yama was going to make him come so hard.

The determination made it a little easier to get up on his jellied legs and strip from the hips up. Harlock watched him, hungry but patient. His measured expression didn't match the subtle, rhythmic rock of his hips.

“Bed?” Yama asked. He tossed his gloves and shirt and sweater onto the chair.

“I'd say that's your best bet for convenience and novelty,” Harlock said. “I set up something simple to try, if you want.”

Taking strides as long and confident as he could manage, Yama walked around to Harlock's back and stroked his hair. “Do you want to?”

A small, strong tremor bolted up Harlock's back and made his scalp prickle up under Yama's fingertips. “Yes.”

“Then I do, too. You might have to give instructions.” He dropped down on a knee, hand trailing down Harlock's spine as he went and sliding between his legs to loop a finger in the ring once it was in reach. He flexed his finger, pulling the base of the toy backward and driving the tip forward.

Harlock's gasp whistled through his throat as something very close to a yelp, and Yama's cock pulsed. He unclenched his hand and pulled back again, and again, rocking the toy's perfectly positioned tip into Harlock's prostate in an insistent tapping rhythm. Harlock didn't protest, didn't even grit his teeth the way he usually would. His mouth was slack and sighing.

Briefly, Yama regretted not finishing in Harlock's mouth. If he wasn't so desperate himself, he could see spending a long while working Harlock into a moaning mess pleading to get off.

Maybe-

No.

“This thing's a brilliant design,” Yama mused, giving a tug to pull two of the four bulbs free. Harlock winced, flinched, and sighed in that order. Shock with a chaser of relief. Yama pulled the whole thing free, and let Harlock slump back against him for a second. “But it's not easy to walk with, is it? Go get on your bed and I'll fill you up with something else.”

They parted long enough for Yama to get the lubricant from where it had rolled off the desk and for Harlock to draw the curtain around his bed and lay himself out.

The eaves of the bed curtains concealed soft lights that made the bed an illuminated island and eliminated Yama's anxieties about fumbling through new routines in the dark.

They also showed Harlock in comparatively fine detail, laid out on his back with his long limbs splayed and his smirking face redder than Yama had ever seen it.

A pair of long straps were buckled and secured on the headboard, and though Yama understood them on a theoretical level Yama boggled at them.

Harlock settled his head and shoulders back on the pillow bunched up against the headboard and beckoned to Yama. “Come. Wrists first.” He offered Yama a hand, which Yama took, and guided him with a patience that belied the frantic pulse fluttering in his wrist. “Lay the wrist there, under the ring, and thread the strap through like a belt. It'll cling to itself until you pull it backward.”

Though Yama couldn't suppress the shiver in his fingers, it only took a moment. The first pass on Harlock's wrists left a couple feet of dangling strap left over, so Yama started to wrap one around again.

Harlock grunted, and Yama stilled his hands.

“That's for tying my legs if you want,” Harlock said. “You don't have to wrap all the way to my elbow.”

Yama's eyes – one behind the patch – widened. “Your legs?” He did some hasty geometry in his head and then asked, a little eagerly, “I- We can do that?”

“With very little trouble, if any at all. Just do the same with my ankles as you did with my wrists.”

Slowly, Yama scooped one leg up under the knee and raised it up, bent it back with the assistance of Harlock's trained muscles and joints. Harlock watched, taking measured breaths and smiling in the encouraging way he did when Yama needed experienced support in more innocent situations.

He crawled over to the other side of the bed and strapped Harlock's other leg up before returning to the foot of the bed to appraise – and admire – the job he'd done.

It was a job worth admiring, and not just because the position pulled Harlock's hips slightly off the sheets and offered up his most tender parts for Yama to do what he liked with. Not just because Harlock couldn't, without sincere effort, squirm away or cover his mouth or reach down to relieve himself. Harlock's face was the real attraction, the real accomplishment.

There wasn't much to be proud of in overpowering a man and binding him, you only had to be stronger, but to be so loved and trusted that he invited you to do it and looked at you with such eager abandon was intoxicating.

“Okay,” Yama breathed, breaking the spell long enough to look away and reach for the bottle he'd brought. He upended it and let the contents drizzle onto Harlock's balls and run down over his exposed opening. He rubbed it in with firm strokes of his fingertips, and Harlock moaned. The straps creaked against Harlock's efforts to arch up into the touch.

Harlock's ass took two of his fingers with only the lightest pressure, and the drastic position made it easy to push them in to the third knuckle. The muscle ring contracted around Yama's fingers and Harlock's flagging, ignored erection twitched. Yama curled his fingers forward along the smooth inner walls and found the knot of Harlock's prostate firm and full, primed to burst. He pressed square on it and Harlock made a strangled, wordless noise through clenched teeth, head bent forward.

“I could make you come like this, couldn't I?” It hadn't occurred to Yama before, and Harlock's comment about the toy getting him off earlier had come off as a tease to his ears. Yama always _something_ stroking or grinding on his cock to get off and hadn't fooled around with anyone who asked for anything different.

“Don't,” Harlock said, hair obscuring his face, when Yama had expected a simple 'yes' or 'no' response. “Fuck me.”

Yama gulped. His hips jerked forward like Harlock's words had a hold on his cock. “Not yet,” he said, mostly to himself. He spread his fingers wide and let the pads of his fingers slide across Harlock's sweet spot when he closed them again. Harlock shuddered. “Look at me.”

The expression Harlock lifted to him was a mix of lusty challenge and an uncertainty that looked alien on Harlock's face. A deep flush lit up the skin around his scar and his eye was wide and glossy. He took shallow breaths through parted lips.

At that point, Yama had to admit to himself that he was toying around with Harlock for his own fun. During their mundane encounters, it never took long to get Harlock ready to take him. Yama wasn't big, and Harlock had the toughness and confidence to meet Yama's youthful impatience with enthusiasm. It wasn't about precautions when Yama split and scissored his fingers, it was about watching Harlock's chest shudder with his catching breaths and his teeth work at his lower lip.

And when he looped an arm around Harlock's thigh to keep him very still, met his wide and confused gaze, and buried his fingers deep to push and flick over the smooth swelling of Harlock's prostate as fast as the tight muscles constricting his fingers would allow, it was about hearing Harlock shout.

“Hahh! Yama- Hih! Yamaa...”

Yama tightened his grip on Harlock's thigh and pushed his fingertips against that spot in tight, coaxing circles. Harlock whined. “You're the one who said 'feel free,' captain.”

“Yama, stop.” The words were a heavy sigh punctuated by desperate twists of Harlock's hips.

But 'stop' didn't mean stop. 'Fire' meant stop.

So Yama curled and flexed his fingers again, pushed his thumb hard into the stretch of flesh between the base of Harlock's cock and the hole swallowing his fingers. He wouldn't bother with the theatrics of pistoning his fingers in and out; this was about keeping the stimulation constant and inescapable.

He let himself drink in the image of Harlock twisting in his bonds, his toes curling and his legs trembling with effort and pleasure. His mouth hung open, gasping. He'd pinched his eye shut.

“Stop. Stop, stop.” The word didn't hold much power uttered between moans and in time with squeezes around Yama's fingers.

Yama didn't let up, kept pushing Harlock to breathe faster and moan louder, until Harlock very suddenly went silent and seized up. The stall lasted a split second before he gave a great shudder and cried out, his face turned as far as his neck would allow into the pillow behind his head as his body spasmed around Yama's fingers. The pitch of his voice escalated for the half the long seconds it took for the orgasm to wind down, the rest of the time he spent trembling and whining softly.

When he stilled, Yama withdrew his fingers and made a small apologetic sound. Harlock didn't respond immediately, too wrapped up in catching his breath by panting into the pillow. And, a moment later, in rocking his hips back against Yama as urgently as the binds on his legs would allow. He was still hard, so hard that the skin on his cock looked tight and flushed and abused. The tip was weeping profusely, but the fluid dropping onto Harlock's stomach was thin and clear. Yama's own cock bobbed eagerly, but the situation had immobilized him while he tried to work out just what he'd caused to happen.

Harlock shifted, head rolling, so that he could fix Yama with a steely glower from behind the messy screen of his hair. His face was still drastically flushed, but his not in a way that let Yama forget that he could pull free of the bonds with ease if he wanted to.

“Fuck me. Now.” Harlock, for his part, wasn't playing around anymore.

Yama flinched into action. He fumbled with the bottle of lubricant, his hands shivering on top of being slippery, but he managed to spread plenty over his cock. He stopped to wipe his hands off on the sheets to he could grip Harlock's raised knees and just let his hips fall forward to bury himself in Harlock.

Harlock gasped and clamped around him, and he almost came himself as he finally enjoyed the relief of hot walls closing around him. Only the way Harlock's hardened expression and sharp voice melted almost immediately into sweet overwhelm and sighs kept Yama from pounding himself to climax like a desperate virgin.

It couldn't last long, though. Yama's balls practically hurt to empty themselves, and Harlock was very obviously even worse off. He gasped and choked, insides quaking and heavy cock lying parallel to his stomach. The murmurs between his sighs were half encouragement, half pleading.

“That's it. Harder. Harder...”

Yama straightened up and gripped Harlock's hips, pushed straight forward and let the angle of Harlock's bound body guide the head of his cock where it would have the strongest effect. He dug his fingertips into the shaking flesh and snapped his hips hard. Skin on oiled skin made a sharp, vulgar smack as Yama plunged in and Harlock cried out.

“God, Harlock,” Yama mumbled, the pleasure of sliding in to the hilt over and over so fluidly making his throat loose. “I can't-”

If Harlock had any encouraging words, the moans Yama's cock was forcing out of him crowded them out. As Yama pumped faster, Harlock's voice died down to catching gasps until his muscles started to pull harder on Yama's cock and a moan rose in his chest.

Yama's name wasn't on Harlock's lips when he came, just a long cry broken up with gasps. His body clamped down on Yama so hard that he could hardly move for fear of becoming completely overwhelmed, frozen in a deep thrust as cum rushed out of him. His vision fogged a little, but not enough to ruin his view of Harlock unloading thick white ropes of cum onto his heaving chest and quivering stomach.

Harlock quaked and twitched for a few long moments even after his body expended its ejaculatory supply, cock jerking and ass clenching until he was completely breathless and Yama was milked dry.

Gasping himself, Yama fell back onto his ass and took a second to collect himself while his cock twitched itself soft.

When he moved again, he found himself looking at Harlock with a cleared mind. The flush over his body had gone, he was sticky and wet and soft and breathless and bound. He looked cold and tired to Yama's post-orgasmic brain, and Yama felt a sudden pang of tenderness for him. That reverent feeling from before was swelling in him again.

He pulled the end of the straps free, holding Harlock's legs steady to lay them down, rubbing the pink rings around his ankles and wrists. When he got Harlock's arms free, Harlock put them loosely around him and sighed. Yama knew it was just shifting blood flow and relief from tension that made them tremble, but he couldn't ignore it. He let Harlock lean into him and stroked his back.

“That was fun,” Yama said.

Harlock nodded against his stomach. He was breathing deeper and steadier now. “Quite. Next time will be even better.”

Though he wouldn't say it out loud, Yama was deeply relieved he wouldn't have to be the one asking for a next time.

They bathed together in the big bathroom off Harlock's quarters, soaking out any soreness that might crop up. While Harlock lounged under a clean sheet on the sofa, sipping at his third glass of wine, Yama swapped the sheets out and cleaned up while making plans for the next time Harlock decided he got to be in charge for the night again.

 


End file.
